Wreck on the Highway
by Chasing Liquor
Summary: A fragmented love story about the joys, sorrows, and randomness of life. McKeller.


**Disclaimer**: It all belongs to the folks at MGM.

**Spoilers:** Anything up to Season 5, I guess, but I don't think there's anything specific.

**Description:** A fragmented love story about the joys, sorrows, and randomness of life. McKeller.

**Warnings:** There's one small spot of graphic violent imagery.

**A/N**: Many, many thanks to those who have reviewed my recent string of McKeller stories. It's quite considerate and much appreciated. This piece here is, not for the first time, inspired by a Bruce Springsteen song of the same title. I, not surprisingly, highly recommend it.

I hope you enjoy the story, and if you'd be so kind, leave me a review and let me know what you think. Thanks.

* * *

**Wreck on the Highway**

* * *

"The one thing I'll always remember is the rain."

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, peeling back the label on her beer. He just listened, trying to keep as still as he could, like she were a rabbit or a bird or anything prone to running off.

"It almost knocked me over when I got out of the car at first. They hadn't been calling for rain that day, so I wasn't wearing a jacket. That's probably as cold as I've ever been."

He looked away from her, trying to find a far-off point to stare at.

"When I first got to him, he was still lucid. And it was hard to see just how bad it was because the rain kept washing the blood way," she said, sounding a little clinical about it, though the look on her face told a different story. "He was covered in glass too. And I remember it took me a while to brush it off because I didn't want to cut myself."

She glanced down at her hands.

"That seems selfish thinking about it now."

He risked a sideways glance at her, studying the way she was studying herself.

"There wasn't much I could do. I didn't have my bag with me. I remember that morning too, when I was driving away from home, it occurred to me I didn't have it, but I didn't feel like going back for it."

She frowned, just so slightly.

"I guess it wouldn't have mattered. By the time I turned him over and found the shards in his back, it was too late for anything anyway. It was pretty much over."

He finally turned his head and looked at her full-on, feeling utterly impotent to do anything. Should he touch her, or leave her, or maybe just sit there? He didn't know.

"When the EMTs got there, they wouldn't say it to me, but I could tell they thought he was a lost cause," she said, her eyes unfocusing as they stared down at the bottle of beer. "I kind of wonder if they just put the oxygen mask on him so that I wouldn't argue with them."

McKay took a sip from his own beer, his throat feeling raw.

"You never heard what happened?"

Keller shook her head slowly, looking more thoughtful again than sad.

"No," she said distantly, spinning the bottle a bit between her outstretched legs. "I never asked. I should have, right? I know I should have. The truth is, I was pretty positive he died, but I didn't really want to know for sure. I thought that would make me feel better."

She poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue, then slid it across the bottom of her mouth.

"I guess I was wrong, though."

She finally turned to meet his gaze, looking for some sign that he understood. But as kind and sympathetic as he appeared just then, she knew unequivocally that he didn't.

"I know I didn't know him. It's just, he must have had a girlfriend or a wife or someone." She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think about it all the time or anything. I haven't ever treated someone who looked like him. Just every once in a while, I'll remember it. It's just one of those things, you know?"

He nodded, though he clearly didn't. She smiled thankfully, even though he hadn't the faintest clue.

With an expression and comportment so awkward that she nearly laughed, he placed his hand on her upper arm, unsure what to do from there. She made it easy for him and slid the few inches toward him, pillowing her head against him. The tension left the scientist, and he opened his arm so she could fold into his shoulder.

Neither reacted when her beer spilled onto the floor.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Hey! I'm glad I caught you."

Keller smiled softly, continuing on her path, forcing him to try to keep up with her as she walked.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

McKay looked something between excited and terrified as he asked, "Are you going to the Athosian thing tomorrow? The uh, feast or – what is it, gala – whatever you call it."

"I was thinking about it. Why?"

"Well, I was kind of wondering if maybe you might like to – um, simply as a matter of… walking to and from the… that is, if you were to walk there alone, you might get bored or – "

Keller stopped walking, and amidst his rambling, McKay didn't notice at first, continuing forward until he was a full six or eight feet ahead of her. When he finally realized it, he stopped and spun around and found her again, briskly erasing the distance between them.

" – or, uh, lonely."

"It isn't exactly a road trip," she replied glibly. "It's in the West Pier."

McKay nodded, looking totally deflated and feeling much the part of the fool he knew he was.

He perked up a moment later, though, when she added with a shy smile, "But if you're asking if I'll go with you, just because you want me to, then I'd like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Uh, wonderful. Yeah, that's great," he stammered. "Um, okay. Yeah. Perfect. I'll come by and get you beforehand. If that's okay. Because if you'd prefer, we can meet in a… neutral locale."

"We're not signing a treaty, Rodney. You can just come by my quarters."

"Right."

She smiled, touching him on the arm before stepping past him.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he said quietly, standing in that same spot for a good while, even after she was gone.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The walk to her quarters felt like an interminable march.

His mind ran through, one by one, the infinite ways this could all go wrong. He was sure it would, in fact.

When he finally reached her door, he took in a long breath of air, adjusting the tuck of his shirt briefly before waving his hand over the entry sensor.

A few seconds passed, and then the door opened to reveal Keller, whose appearance so stunned the anxious scientist that he literally froze, in much the same way as a Replicator might when their programming was interrupted, and Keller took great pride in the reaction, watching with interest as he continued to stare at her with the vacant optics of a smitten man.

"Rodney?"

He blinked his eyes, trying to reboot his brain as he looked upon her. He'd never seen her done up, and though she was a vision in any attire at any moment, she looked so much the part of the elegant lady in this simple black dress, which hinted at her shape without appearing anything less than tasteful, that he was finding it difficult to draw air into his lungs in safe, reasonable increments.

"Hmm?"

"Take a breath," she said.

He nodded dumbly, obliging her after a moment. That seemed to be enough to snap him out of it.

"Um… sorry," he said with no small amount of embarrassment. "You just, you look… incredible."

She rewarded him with a broad, warm smile that almost did him in again.

"You wash up pretty good yourself. I'll be the envy of all the girls tonight."

"Highly improbable."

"Oh, I don't know," she said playfully, stepping through the door and taking his arm. "You'd be surprised."

He looked so hopeful when she said that, even though he knew it wasn't true.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Parties weren't really his thing. It was mostly just people sharing anecdotes of cherished days gone by. He didn't have a lot of those, truth be told. All his stories were about Siberia and distant parents and weaselly scholars who stole his theories.

There wasn't any reasonable way for him to interject himself into Sheppard's monologue about his days as a flyboy, or Ronon's joyful reminiscing about the Wraith he'd killed, or the Athosians' tales of hot summer labor.

At some point, he lost track of Keller, who was pulled into a discussion with Teyla and Kanaan about the innocent days of childhood.

McKay escaped into the corridor, sitting on the floor just outside the hall, leaning his head back against the wall and passively listening to the sounds of celebration.

He sighed with self-contempt, a deep frown developing. What great company he'd been tonight. All he could seem to do was refill her glass and stand close to her, while she did her best to carry conversation for the both of them.

He'd have felt guilty for wandering off if he didn't know she was better off without him.

He still had the sense to look chagrined, though, when he turned a time later to see Keller exit into the corridor. Scrambling to his feet, as if it was somehow the gentlemanly thing to do, he prepared for the worst as she approached him.

But she didn't look annoyed or affronted or ready to accuse him of anything. In fact, all he could find in her eyes were curiosity and a sympathy he didn't deserve.

"Well, some date you are," she said lightly.

"Look, I'm sorry," he replied quickly. "It's just, I – well, I'm not good at all of that party talk and you looked like you were enjoying yourself, and I just didn't want to – "

"Let's get out of here."

That stopped him cold.

"What?"

"I'm a lot better at party talk than you, but that doesn't mean I like it."

McKay smiled tentatively.

"Oh. Really?"

"Yeah," she replied, a wry smile forming. "I'm a maladjusted genius too, remember?"

McKay nodded absently, finding himself staring at her lips as she said that, thinking how utterly full they looked, even when she was talking.

"Rodney?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you all – "

Before she could finish her sentence, his mouth was upon hers, claiming it at his own in an unexpected kiss.

He pulled back almost immediately, seeming to realize the impulsiveness of what he'd done, but Keller wouldn't allow it, her hands finding his hips and using them to reel him back in, as she initiated their second kiss, this one no less gentle (or insistent) than the first.

McKay fought hard to swallow a groan, but he was only half successful, and he could feel her self-satisfied smile pressing against his mouth for a time before they finally parted.

Her smile remained, while his face was slack with shock.

"Wow, um… yeah, I… just really wanted to do that," he said softly, looking confused.

"So did I if you were paying attention, Rodney."

"Is that my name?" he asked. "I don't remember."

Keller's smile swelled, as did her fondness for the man.

She could get used to all this flattery. She intended to, in fact.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"You're really not surprised?"

Sheppard shrugged, only half paying attention as he watched his video game character sink a long putt for Birdie.

"Not really," he said, crossing his legs at the ankle as he rested them on the table in front of him. "She seems like the kind of girl who doesn't know she's out of your league."

"Or else she's the type of girl who can appreciate substance and intellect over a guy with gelled-up hair who looks like he walked out of an LL Bean catalogue."

Sheppard frowned.

"If that was directed at me, I'm hurt that you would say that."

"You really aren't surprised?" McKay asked again.

"Look, Rodney," the soldier said cryptically, "let's just say that I got some advance information."

"Advance information? Who are you, Dionne Warwick?"

Sheppard sighed.

"Do you really wanna get into this?"

McKay glanced away, watching Sheppard's character drive the ball over the fairway on the LCD screen. Something in the way his friend uttered the flippant question seemed dangerous, as if it were the key to a door he'd do well not to walk through.

But his curiosity, the engine for his scientific genius, bested him.

"Yeah, I do."

Sheppard gave him a suffering sideways glance. He never should have given McKay the choice; he should have protected him from himself. But he had, and he hadn't, and now the man would know.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

He'd been quiet all through dinner, and he hadn't said a solitary thing so far as they watched the movie. It was a particularly peculiar thing given that they were watching a piece of pulp science fiction. She'd expected him to critique its numerous flaws in physics and logic – in fact, she'd been quite looking forward to that – but he was mute.

As the movie continued to play in the background, neither paying much attention to it, she turned her body to face his.

"Okay. What's going on, Rodney?"

He inclined his head to look at her, doing his best to manufacture a quizzical expression, but failing miserably.

"Don't even try to pretend you're fine. You're really bad at it."

He considered pressing on with the charade, but thought it might insult her if he tried. Still, this wasn't a burden meant to be shared.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to, um… worry you. I'm just thinking about some things."

She reached out and pilfered one of his hands from his lap, running her thumb over the knuckles.

"Well, why don't you tell me, and we'll think about them together?"

McKay shook his head sadly, trying not to look at her.

"No, this isn't… it's nothing you need to worry about."

"That's not fair."

"What?"

"It's not fair," she said, still caressing the hand she held. "I tell you what's bothering me, and you help me. You're supposed to tell me if something's wrong too."

McKay closed his eyes, trying not to focus on the soothing feel of her hand on his, her skin so soft and her touch so persuasive that he worried he might succumb.

He let out a heavy breath. He could feel her eyes, those discerning doctor's eyes, observing his every gesture. It unnerved him more than she knew.

"Do you ever wonder if some things are meant to happen?" he asked quietly.

She thought for a second.

"Are you talking about fate?"

"Something like that."

"I don't know," she said, resting her head against the top of the couch. "I like to think we have control over our own lives, but there's an awful lot of coincidences out there."

He nodded, still not looking at her.

"I wonder if there's, um… some place where things have to end up. And all we can really do is change how long it takes to get there."

Keller turned his hand over, massaging the palm briefly before she let it go, bringing her own hand up to touch his cheek, tilting his face toward her, so that at last he was forced to look into her eyes.

"Well, wherever it is, we're not going to get there tonight," she said softly, her voice nearly lost amidst the shouts and explosions in the movie, as he looked at her so vulnerably. "But why don't you stay the night, just in case?"

He nodded, leaning into her hand.

They slept the sleep of the dead that evening, and that was just fine for them both.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"I like being seen in public with you," he said, sounding more contemplative than the comment would suggest.

Keller smiled curiously.

"What?"

"I just… like that people see us together."

"Why's that?"

McKay cleared his throat, looking down, twisting the plastic cup of soda in his hand.

"Well, you're kind of… really hot."

Keller's smile widened.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, you're like, easily the hottest person here."

"Well, I don't know about that."

"Don't try to be modest," McKay scoffed. "It's not even close. I hear all those hotshot marines talking about you all the time."

That seemed to genuinely surprise her.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Makes me wanna deck them, actually."

"What do they say?" she asked.

The way McKay flinched at the question was telling of the nature of the men's remarks.

"Um, nothing," he said, looking down at the table for a long moment before looking back at her. "Men can be kind of… I'm not like that, am I? Should I not call you hot? Is that like an anti-feminist thing? Because if you'd like, I won't – "

He was silenced mid-sentence as she leaned in to kiss him, pressing her mouth against his bottom lip first, then gliding up to the top one, loitering there for several seconds before drifting back.

When she pulled away, she felt great affection for his flustered expression.

"There's a reason those guys talk about me, and you sleep in the same bed with me, Rodney."

McKay, feeling his self-confidence surge, smiled in that totally satisfied way of his, possessively reaching for her hand as a young lieutenant at the next table looked on in disgust.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The sun was only just up over the planet, and the grass was still wet with dew. The prairie was as peaceful as any Sheppard had ever seen, an anemic wind just barely swaying the tall green blades. It reminded him of summers spent in Maine, and he thought of them for the length of a breath, then exhaled them and moved on.

It was about a half-mile walk before he could discern the outline of a village in the near distance.

"Rodney, you getting any life signs?"

McKay opened a pouch on his vest, extracting a small scanner and cueing up the needed data.

"Yeah. Hundreds, actually."

"Human, Wraith?"

McKay sighed in annoyance.

"It's a life sign detector, not a racial profiler."

"Not very useful then, is it?" Ronon remarked coarsely.

"Gee, you're right," the scientist quipped. "How about we just start using your inventions instead? Oh, wait, I forgot – you don't even know your multiplication tables!"

Sheppard cleared his throat.

"Play nice, boys, would you?"

The offending parties quieted at that, though the expressions of both indicated a lingering resentment.

Teyla stepped forward diplomatically.

"Let us go see if they are amenable to meeting us, shall we?"

Sheppard summoned a grateful half-grin.

"I think that's a splendid idea," he said, turning back to the men with a look of warning.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Sheppard grimaced as he looked down on the sickly child.

The naturally pale skin of the girl was made triply so by the disease destroying her body from within, her eyes – naturally blue according to her father – a bright, cat-like yellow. Her face was damp with sweat, despite the cool cloth which rested on her forehead.

"Same symptoms, all of them?" the soldier asked.

The girl's father nodded.

"She was the first, and there's been dozens since. Our medicine men haven't been able to do anything but make them more comfortable."

"And you're sure that it's just the children? No adults?"

"Yes, positive."

McKay spoke up from behind them.

"The adults could still be carriers, though," he said.

To his right, Teyla's face contorted into a deep frown.

"Then we very well may have contracted it ourselves already."

Sheppard glanced back at her, and once he saw her expression, he knew immediately what was the matter.

"Your son."

"We cannot return to Atlantis," she insisted.

Sheppard nodded, more casually than the revelation warranted. He looked back down at the child for a long moment, then sighed.

"All right, we'll radio back to Atlantis and have them send help in hazmat suits."

A time later, while they were waiting, McKay could tell how unnerved Teyla was.

"Don't worry," he said certainly. "Jennifer will figure this out in, like, ten minutes. We'll have you back in no time."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

It was ten days later when Keller sat beside the bed of a dead boy, her hazmat suit discarded earlier in the week. His frail body was hooked up to a variety of machines, but none of them – a combination of Ancient tech and Earth-born ingenuity – could restart the child's heart or banish disease from his lungs.

There were eight others like him, and some thirteen grieving parents.

What good was she? What good?

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Everyone was getting anxious, but they did the best they could.

Ronon spent the day hunting game in the nearby woods, supposedly to clear his head.

Teyla spent the day consoling the locals, and praying with them to their several gods.

Sheppard spent the day as a gopher for the medical staff, bringing them water and food and running test results from one tent to another.

McKay did his best to apply his scientific expertise to the matter, but without much success.

That night, Keller – having been ordered with conviction to get some sleep by the scientist – tossed and turned in bed beside him, while he himself slept a dreamless slumber. She tried for a solid hour, maybe more, to drift off into the ether herself, but her mind's eye haunted her with images of limp bodies and the weeping bereaved, and finally she sat up.

For a time, she simply thought more of the carcasses and of those who grieved for what once they were. But as the minutes wore on, and those images threatened to make her vomit, she turned her eyes away from the wall of the tent and looked back down at McKay, still sleeping soundly, his face peaceful, free from the lines of worry and pain and frustration she often saw there.

He looked so beautiful in a world gone wrong.

She just sat up in the darkness and watched him sleep. And as time went on, she felt her mind drift, thinking not of McKay or of the children who'd died, but of a rainy night so long ago, of the man and the glass and the wreck on the highway.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Keller sat on the edge of the table, her posture poor and defeated and her body unaccustomed to the stress of it, and she looked down at the ground, then across the tent with a shake of the head that was gentle, and yet so full of white-hot bitterness that McKay flinched at seeing it.

"What does it matter?" she asked quietly. "I'm never going to figure it out. They should bring in someone who has some clue what they're doing."

McKay swallowed uncomfortably.

"Don't say that."

"Why not?" she demanded with sudden force. "It's true, isn't it?"

"No," he replied emphatically. "It's not."

"If it weren't true, then I'd have found a cure already. I've had three weeks, and people are dying. And every day more that's wasted with me trying to figure it out, is just another three bodies."

"Jennifer, you're trying to cure a totally unknown pathogen. You can't just expect – "

"Why not?" she interrupted darkly, her voice rising. "You think the parents are just going to understand why their child had to die and another didn't?"

"That's not a fair measure."

"Isn't it, though? What if it was me? Or John?"

McKay narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"That was sick," she clarified. "What if it was me or John and you were sitting there waiting for someone to find a cure? When I died, would you say, 'That's okay. It takes time'?"

McKay ducked his head, scratching the stubble on the back of his neck. He was the wrong person to be talking to her.

She looked about to say something, her mouth pursed sourly, and he was suddenly desperate to cut her off, saying the first thing that came to him.

"I think things like that too sometimes."

Her angry energy lost its momentum.

"What?"

He darted his eyes about uncomfortably, wishing he hadn't said that because of the admission he knew had to follow. She was looking at him quizzically now.

"You know how many times Sheppard's said, 'If you don't figure this out, we're all gonna die?' Like twice a mission."

"But you do figure it out."

"Yeah. But if one of these times I don't, will it be my fault?"

"No."

"Are people going to say, 'If McKay had just done his job, they'd still be alive?'"

Keller regarded him harshly.

"Don't say things like that."

"Like what?"

"'Going to,'" she said, dropping her eyes and blinking. "Like you're sure it'll happen."

"But it might. It could. And just because people expect me to fix everything, doesn't mean I can," he said, looking so sad as his eyes studied her.

Keller looked up, meeting his gaze.

"Are you saying I should accept that I can't fix this?"

"No. I'm saying that you can't beat yourself up just because it's going to take you a while to figure it out."

"But what if I _don't_ figure it out?"

McKay stepped forward, and with no hesitation took her face into his hands, tilting her head back just a bit so that she had no recourse but to keep looking into his eyes. She'd never seen him so utterly earnest.

"You will," he said, as if that were the end of the matter. "You're going to find it, and a lot of kids are going to grow up with you to thank."

Keller blinked, a little overwhelmed by his faith. There was a gleam or glistening in his eyes, but she couldn't tell if it was the light or something else. She didn't know what to do or what to say or how to feel, so she tried to look away, but he wouldn't let her.

"Don't give up, Jen." He stroked her face. "Never, ever, _ever_ give up."

She sighed, then nodded, then stood, and then leaned into his chest, and let out a breath as his arms closed around her.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

A supine little girl looked up at her with a weak smile, and Keller returned it, squeezing her patient's hand gently, overcome with mirth and relief and emotions she'd not admit to.

"Thank 'ou," the girl's tiny voice slurred, thick with the sleep soon to claim her, "for 'elp me, Doc'or Keller."

The physician smiled and nodded, patting the girl's hand one last time before she stood, squaring her shoulders away from the girl to face the parents, who regarded her with such gratitude.

"We cannot repay you for what you have done," the father said, taking Keller's hands in his own. "I can only hope that, when the day comes that you are in need, the gods send one for you, as you were sent for us."

There wasn't much the doctor could think to say to that, and to try would have cheapened the man's words. She simply nodded once more, smiling at both parents, before turning and exiting the family's tent.

Sheppard was waiting for her just outside.

"That the last one?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think that's all of them."

"Let's get going then, before McKay gets into trouble."

"What do you mean?" she asked, falling into stride beside him.

"He hasn't gone through yet. Insisted on waiting by the gate. Something about not trusting me to get you back."

She did her best to hide her smile.

"You're gonna have to cool it with all that ego-stroking," Sheppard groused lightly. "He's starting to think he's a badass."

Keller let out a neutral "hmm," grinning the whole walk to the gate.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

She smiled across the table, holding one of his hands in her own, using her other to eat. He was too preoccupied with his steak to notice.

"I wanted to thank you, by the way."

He paused, his fork suspended in mid-air.

"For what?"

"For not letting me give up," she said, brushing his knuckles. "I needed you. And you came through big time."

McKay shrugged, feeling uncomfortable with the praise. Someone else might have taken his dismissal the wrong way, but she just kept smiling.

"Well… you're the one who had to figure it out. I just – "

"Saved me from myself," she interjected.

McKay smiled awkwardly for a second, then ducked his head and kept eating.

He wasn't good at moments like these. But that was okay. He was good at the ones that mattered.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Oh, just shut up, would you?"

She laughed, lazily lifting his arm and pressing a kiss of false apology into the skin of his forearm before letting it drop to his side again.

"I didn't say it looked bad. I said it looked interesting."

"Yeah, like there's a difference."

"If you wanna look like Bill Cosby, then I don't have any problem with it."

He grunted in annoyance, taking a long look at the multi-colored sweater, before finally tossing it aside, glancing back at her with something between a pout and a sneer.

"I hate you," he grumbled, flopping down onto his back on the bed.

Keller smiled sweetly, letting herself fall beside him, still laughing a little bit.

He shook his head, sighing, and said to her again, "I hate you."

She leaned in and kissed him, then lay her head on his chest.

"I love you too," she said.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Koufos glanced back at McKay, rolling his eyes at the acerbic astrophysicist.

"Whatever, Doc. Whether you like it or not, we're not going anywhere. Mr. Woolsey was rather insistent about that," he said, rolling some gum around his mouth.

"Just stay out of my way and let me work then."

Koufos didn't respond, parking himself on a large rock across from Delaney, sweeping his eyes over the landscape. It was a beautiful area, though some ways away from the village. Keras had done quite well for his people there in expanding the residences to make room for a small population boom. The village was bigger and more alive than it had been just two years prior, when Koufos had first visited with Dr. Zelenka.

It was strange not seeing anyone over the age of twenty-seven, but perhaps by necessity, the children and young adults were wise well beyond their years. Koufos thought it would be nice to have kids of his own one day who were that charming and capable.

McKay looked over the readings on his tablet, pouring over months of data from the village's ZPM. This wasn't quite how he'd hoped to spend his Saturday. Keller had understood when he reneged on their planned trip to the mainland, but that was little comfort as he sat on the hard ground.

He listened casually as Koufos and Delaney chatted.

"Keras told me there's been some animal attacks on the outskirts," Koufos said, spitting out his now flavorless gum and replacing it with a fresh piece. "Says the bodies were torn up pretty bad."

"They know what did it?"

"Nope. But I imagine it's somethin' fierce. A bear maybe."

McKay sighed condescendingly and said, "We're in another galaxy, Major. There's no bears here."

"What do you think it is then, Doc?" Delaney asked.

"I don't know, and I don't particularly care to. And I'd really rather not discuss man-eating creatures if you don't mind."

Koufos grinned slyly.

"Whatever you say, Doc. You just take care of that there. We'll look out for the bears."

McKay grunted, but said nothing, committing himself to his task.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Major! Major! Major!"

Koufos leapt up from the rock, narrowing his eyes to make out the villager sprinting toward him, the boy's arms raised wildly, sleeves torn, his face and neck streaked with blood.

"Major!" the teenager shouted, hysterical and wild-eyed. "Major! Major!"

Koufos caught the boy as he stumbled toward him, McKay and Delaney quickly on their feet beside them.

"What is it, son?" the soldier asked, holding him upright. "Calm down. What's the matter?"

The boy, terrified and trembling, could barely speak.

"It – it – came – it hurt them," he said, choking back sobs. "It hit me, it – it – I – they – "

"Hurt who?"

"My friends! We were… out… to gather wood. It – it came – "

"What came?" Koufos asked, tilting the boy's head up.

"I don't know! It was a beast! It was black and – and its claws were…"

"We need to go tell Keras," McKay interrupted, looking pointedly at Koufos.

The Major shook his head in the negative.

"No, they could be dead by the time we got help," he said, looking back at the boy. "We're going to go after your friends. I need you to get back to the village and tell Keras what's happened. Can you do that?"

The boy nodded earnestly, and then frantically ran off.

McKay looked on Koufos patronizingly.

"What the hell are you doing? We have no idea what that thing is! We can't just go running around – "

Delaney interrupted him by shoving the scientist's P-90 into his arms roughly, leveling him with a glare. McKay had the sense not to finish his sentence, capitulating with a resigned sigh.

Koufos took up his own weapon and led the way.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

They fanned out in the forest, trying to cover as much ground as they could. McKay was none too pleased to be wandering amongst the trees with no one to watch his back; he wasn't trained for such, and shouldn't have been expected to play commando. But he'd not said a word on the subject, knowing the situation was dire.

Every solitary sound – the crunch of leaves, the sounds of insects and harmless mammals – were to his ears like the toll of the grim bell, and around every brown trunk, he was certain he'd be confronted by the beast of beasts.

As late as last night, he'd expected to spend today relaxing with Keller on the mainland, maybe lounging around 'neath the sun or in the water. But now here he was, alone in nature on another world, looking for a monster and the children it haunted.

It wasn't but a few minutes before, ahead in the near-distance, he could hear the quiet, strangled cries of a teenaged girl.

He took off running.

He didn't think about what danger may lay ahead. He didn't consider the pain in his knee, still shaky from an injured patella. The cry of a child was just such a terrible thing.

The voice got weaker the closer he got, and by the time he arrived, it was silent.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

It looked like there were five bodies, but he couldn't be sure.

There were three torsos in a sloppy pile, and the legs and arms were scattered away from them, save one arm and one leg on the third. Blood and nerves and tissue were everywhere, faces mauled and made unidentifiable.

McKay stood stunned, revolted.

There was only one body still intact, and even she was mangled, deep lacerations covering her stomach and chest, her clothes in tatters, and the skin and muscle on one of her legs peeled back to reveal her femur.

He realized with horror that this was the girl whose cries he'd heard just a minute prior. She'd not been killed instantly; her suffering had been profound and prolonged.

He knelt down beside her, pressing his first two fingers against her neck to confirm what he already knew. Then he fell onto his rear, dropping his P-90 beside him.

He began to shake, cold and disoriented, feeling the first symptoms of shock take hold.

He was lying on his side before long, drifting through the terrible universe.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

As soon as Koufos and Delaney dragged him out of the wormhole, he could feel another pair of hands on him – familiar ones – and he found himself being lifted off the floor and placed carefully onto a stretcher, a heavy blanket thrown over him.

He heard several voices discussing him, but he had trouble distinguishing them from one another. That began to frustrate him after a time, so he lifted his heavy eyelids, glancing up at the blurry face hovering over him.

"It's all right," the face told him, a hand drifting up his arm to touch his face. "You're okay."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

He was released the next morning, at which time Woolsey performed an interrogation of sorts, ending with a demand that he speak to the expedition's psychologist about his experience. McKay forcefully declined, asserting his mental fitness. And to his great surprise and relief, the bureaucrat let the matter drop. Perhaps the argument was simply more trouble than it was worth.

That evening, Keller sat beside him on her bed.

He hadn't said much to her that day, except to complain about Woolsey and ask if she was hungry. She tried to give him space to open up about things, but eventually decreed it a failed endeavor, and took a more direct approach.

"You want to talk about it?" she asked.

McKay shook his head.

"It might make you feel better."

"I doubt it," he said dourly.

Keller took one of his hands, though she had to fight him for it.

"You don't even have to tell me what happened. Just tell me how you feel about it."

McKay forcefully extracted his hand from her grasp and stood, moving away from her toward the door.

"Just… don't. Don't. I – I'm gonna go. I gotta go," he said, missing the sympathetic and hurt and frustrated look that followed him as he left her quarters, and the door slid shut behind him.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

He spent the next three or four hours in his lab, working on several projects of varying worth. There was the new ZPM distribution structure, which improved efficiency by something like .5 percent. There was a hologram interface program to make interactions with the computer easier for the expedition's novices. And he spent the most time searching the Ancient database for relevant information on Wraith cloning.

He didn't get particularly far with any of them, his mind too frayed by the sights of the previous day to work in the manner he was used to. His thoughts were jagged and disconnected, starting from different points, but always ending at the same one.

Zelenka had been there when he first arrived, but he'd thankfully known enough not to engage the chief scientist, and had left some time ago. Since then, McKay had been alone. It was just what he wanted, and the last thing he needed.

At about midnight, he heard the doors open, and sighed heavily when Sheppard walked in.

"Workin' late, McKay?" the soldier asked, his voice carefully cavalier.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. And the key word there is 'working,' so if you don't mind – "

"Anything interesting?"

"Nothing you could comprehend," McKay snapped, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But if you come back tomorrow, Zelenka can give you a tutorial on shapes and numbers."

"Really? Cool. I've been wondering what a rhombus is for years."

"Is there a reason you're bothering me?"

Sheppard sat down on the desk next to McKay's.

"Is there a reason you're down here, and not taking the day off like you're supposed to be?"

McKay grunted, frustration bubbling up.

"Oh, great. Jen sent you down here, didn't she?"

"Yep."

The scientist frowned.

"You're not even going to pretend she didn't?"

"Nope," Sheppard replied casually, a small smile forming.

"Why not?"

The messy-haired man crossed his arms.

"Because, for reasons which elude me, there's an attractive, intelligent, kind-hearted girl waiting up there to coddle you and listen to your problems. And even you're not dumb enough to turn that down to sit at a computer."

McKay looked down. Sheppard had this impressive way of making you feel useless if you didn't do what he wanted you to. And as familiar as the genius was with the technique, it was as effective now as it ever had been.

He didn't really want to be down here. But it was easier this way, and it always had been. If he put off confronting something for long enough, it would eventually recede in his mind, and he could continue as if it never happened.

Did he really want that, though?

Who or what was he if he simply forgot the things he'd seen?

He didn't notice when Sheppard stood up, walked softly to the door, and left.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

It was dark when he entered, and he nearly tripped over her shoes, only catching himself at the last moment. Those damn shoes were always sitting there.

When he got further into the room, the pale light shining through a shaded window illuminated his way.

Keller was lying in bed on top of the sheets, clad in no more than her bra and underwear, and though a paperback book lay open beside her, the peaceful young doctor was fast asleep.

She looked so pure just then, so full of the spirit of what life can be, that he was moved to sit down on the edge of the bed and simply observe her.

He thought about a lot of things. The smooth skin of her back. The way he'd blown her off earlier. The happiness he'd felt these months they spent together. And the craven way those children's bodies had been plundered.

He sat up in the darkness and he watched her sleep, and for the first time since he was twelve years old, he felt tears – real tears – pricking at his eyes. It was just so mad and random and wrong.

She'd wondered once if he understood. He hadn't then, but now he did.

He climbed into bed, feeling himself shake a little, and realizing with some disgust that he was crying. He pressed himself against Keller's back, his arms slipping around her from behind, clutching her to him as he buried his face in the pillow, doing what he could to hide his tears.

After a time, he felt Keller's hands clumsily cover his own.

Then she slowly turned over so that she was facing him, taking his head in her hands and, though he struggled for a moment, cradling it against her chest.

"S'ok," she slurred sleepily, twisting her legs in his. "I've got you now. I've got you."

* * *

**FIN**

* * *


End file.
